


Stay (Building a Home)

by Cobrilee



Series: Sing A Song of Everything [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Flashbacks, M/M, Magic Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 21:25:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7774078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cobrilee/pseuds/Cobrilee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that Derek is home, Stiles has to decide if he's willing to give him another chance. But Derek's abandonment had unexpected consequences, and Stiles doesn't know if he can let them go. (Part two of two. Find part one <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/7773841">here</a>.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay (Building a Home)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Week 3 of the Sterek Summer Spectacle, for team Summer Is Hot, But Sterek Is Hotter. This week's challenge is to write something inspired by a quote or lyrics. The lyrics I chose for this story are from the song [Beside You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GJ0z1LH6RJc), by Marianas Trench. If you haven't heard it before, I highly encourage you to listen to it. It's gorgeous.

_ “Derek’s gone again? Why am I not surprised?” _

_ “Come on, Scotty, it’s Derek. He just needs to get the hell out of Dodge for a little while. He’ll be back, you know that.” _

_ “You ever think that one of these days he just won’t?” _

_ “Nah. He couldn’t survive without us.” _

_ And maybe he meant without him. Without Stiles. Because Stiles, for as clueless as he could be, was not an idiot. He was not oblivious to the way Derek looked at him. He used to be a little more subtle about it, but now, now the looks were open, naked, yearning. He never said a word, that wasn’t Derek’s style, but he wasn’t hiding how much he wanted Stiles. _

_ And maybe Stiles thought that Derek was finally going to let him in. That with this near-death experience (okay, so it wasn’t all that unusual, but fuck, this time he really  _ had _ died, at least for a little while), he was going to take the opportunity to hold onto Stiles, to tell him that he couldn’t bear to waste another chance to tell him how he felt. _

_ Yeah, okay, so that wasn’t really Derek either. But death did something to a man. Usually it was make him a rotting corpse, but Derek played by his own rules. _

_ And Derek had left. Which didn’t exactly make Stiles happy, but he kind of understood. Derek had this pattern. Go through something major and emotional, run away for a little while. Come back. Stand up and fight. Evolve. Grow. _

_ So, yeah. He’d be back. _

**When your tears are spent on your last pretense** ****  
**And your tired eyes refuse to close and sleep in your defense.** ****  
**When it's in your spine like you've walked for miles** **  
** **And the only thing you want is just to be still for a while**

“Stiles?”

He doesn’t turn around, even though every cell of his body feels pulled toward the voice. Derek’s voice. The voice he thought he would never hear again. Once upon a time he wanted it more than anything he could imagine. Now, he just wonders when he’ll have to learn how to live without it again. Yeah, he said he was going to stay, but… he said it last time, too.

“What, Derek?” His voice is maybe more defensive and bitter than he meant, but he kinda can’t help it. He spent a year and a half still hoping, still waiting for him to show up. He’s been disappointed a lot in his life, lost a lot of people and been broken down and defeated. Derek was the one he thought wouldn’t ever walk away from him, not truly. He supposes you could still consider three years temporary, but it felt like forever. It felt permanent.

Derek doesn’t reply, and Stiles reluctantly finds himself turning to face him. Derek’s watching him, his face both cautious and hopeful, but that kind of hopeful where he’s afraid. Stiles marvels a little bit at the idea that Derek is scared of Stiles hurting him, when for so many years, Stiles was the one who was a little bit more broken because Derek had abandoned him. Them. 

“I just wanted to let you know I’m leaving.” He flinches, and Derek immediately realizes how badly that was phrased. “To go to the grocery store. I’ll be back in an hour. Do you need anything?”

He aches over how stiff they are around each other, how tentative and fragile and defensive. Once upon a time he could tease the hell out of the werewolf and get glares in return, glares that lacked true vitriol, and Stiles could wink and grin and know there was still affection in the way Derek responded to him.

Now they can barely be in the same room with each other without tensing up. Which sucks doubly because Stiles had given in to his annoying, crushing guilt and allowed Derek to stay in the loft. Technically Derek could have thrown him out at any time, but he also seemed to have recognized that it was more Stiles’ home than it was his, and he simply dropped his chin in thanks when Stiles waved an agitated hand at the top floor of the loft and told him it was mostly a storage area and he could sleep in there if he wanted. 

It’s been two weeks, and he can’t bring himself to regret it, despite the brittleness in their every interaction. Fuck, he’d missed Derek so goddamn much, and now he’s here, he’s within arm’s reach at nearly all times. He’ll take it, in case that’s all he gets. In case Derek walks away from him again and he’s left with nothing but his memories once more.

Derek’s staring at him, and Stiles realizes he’s gotten lost in thought again. It happens a lot more now than he ever would have believed possible. “Nah. I’m good,” he answers belatedly.

“Okay, then. I’ll just… go.”

“Yeah,” Stiles muses faintly, watching as Derek moves hesitantly toward the front door of the loft. “You do that.”

He hears the softly-uttered words, of course he does, as Stiles knew he would. The guilty look Derek flicks him makes him feel horrible, as if he was the one who had done something horribly wrong. He pushes it away and smiles sardonically, and Derek flinches and disappears, and Stiles sags and blows out a breath. He’d thought it was hell with Derek gone; he’d had no clue.

_ “Have you heard from Derek?” _

_ “Nah, man. Not a single word in two months.” _

_ “You think he’s okay?” _

_ “Derek’s like a cat, he’s got nine lives.” _

_ “Hey, Mister pre-vet, you know the idea that cats have nine lives is a complete fallacy.” _

_ “It’s a saying, Stiles. You know what I mean.” _

_ “Yeah I know. It’s just… It’s just that Derek’s never been gone this long without saying a single word to anyone. He usually at least lets us know he’s doing okay.” _

_ “He fucking died, Stiles. It probably messed him up.” _

_ “You think… I don’t know, it’s stupid.” _

_ “What?” _

_ “I think you were right. When he first left and you said one day he wasn’t going to come back. I think you were right, and this might be that time.” _

_ “I don’t know, Stiles. I think  _ you _ were right. He needs us to survive.” _

_ “That’s bullshit, Scotty, and you know it. Derek doesn’t need any of us. We bring him down. But we’re family, sort of, and I always thought he’d come back for us. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he needs to get  _ away  _ from us to have a chance to survive.” _

_ “I don’t know what to tell you, bro. Maybe we’ll hear from him soon.” _

_ “Yeah. Maybe.” _

_ They didn’t. _

**If your heart wears thin I will hold you up**

**And I will hide you when it gets too much** ****  
**I'll be right beside you** **  
** **I'll be right beside you**

“What are you doing?”

Derek looks up at Stiles’ question, holding up his phone. “Texting Cora. She’s thinking about coming back to Beacon Hills for a visit.”

“That’s nice.” Stiles sinks onto the couch beside Derek, some of the tension having dissipated in the past weeks. “Just a visit?”

“This isn’t her home anymore, not really, but it’s always going to be home to the Hales. The land doesn’t leave the blood.”

“Is that why you’re back?” Stiles purposely keeps his voice light, making it seem as if the question was an idle one, but his shoulders tense as he waits for the answer.

Derek shifts on the couch, staring at him intently. “I told you, Stiles, I’m here because of you. Because I missed you, and I wanted to come back to you.”

“You keep saying shit like that, but how am I supposed to believe it?” Stiles snaps, running a shaky hand through his hair. Derek hasn’t given up trying to convince him of his intentions, of his affection, and it’s rattled Stiles more than he cares to admit. The Derek he knew would never have been so open and honest, and Stiles wants to believe him so badly, but he can’t. “You were gone for three years, Derek. You don’t leave someone you care so much about for three years and never say a word to them. That’s not how it works.”

“We both needed time,” Derek replies quietly. “We both needed an opportunity to get our heads on straight. You were too young, and I would have been no good for you, not then.”

“It wasn’t your choice to make!” he cries, vaulting off the couch and pacing to the windows and back several times. On every return trip he sees Derek sitting there, patient in a way he’d never managed to achieve before, waiting for Stiles to work through everything being thrown at him until he came to a conclusion he could live with. “You left me, Derek, and I didn’t get a say in any of it. I just had to live with missing you, and it nearly destroyed me. That’s why I…” he trails off, not wanting to get into that, despite the curiosity he can see on Derek’s face. “That’s why the pack made me move in here. They thought it would help, to be surrounded by your things. It didn’t. It just made it so much worse.”

Pain blooms on Derek’s face and Stiles curses. It isn’t at all what he wants. He doesn’t want Derek wallowing in guilt, he wants him to explain. To help Stiles understand why he hadn’t been enough to keep Derek here, or, barring that, to bring him back. “I was ready to be anything you needed, Derek. I was ready to hold you when you needed to escape the darkness of your life. I was ready to be the one constant, the one who you could count on to take care of you instead of try to hurt you yet again.”

“And that was far too big of a burden for a seventeen-year-old kid,” Derek returns, voice threaded with pain. “I couldn’t make you responsible for restoring my mental health. I had to come back to you with my shit somewhat together. I had to make sure I would be worthy of you.”

“Fuck, Derek, don’t you get it?” Stiles grits out. “You already were. You were the most important person in the world to me, aside from my dad. How did you not know that?” A sharp, quick inhale is the only response he gets. “Fuck this. I can’t do this, Derek. I can’t relive the past and wonder why I was never good enough for you.”

“Stiles.” His voice is plaintive and keeps Stiles rooted in place, unable to turn away and storm out the way he’d intended to do. “You were always good enough. Too good. You  _ were _ my one constant, and you were the only one I trusted to never hurt me. If I’d stayed, if I’d let you do what we both wanted you to, I would have ruined it eventually. I was too broken for us to be happy together.”

Stiles rubs his hands on his jeans, not knowing what to do with the words. They don’t change anything, not really. Maybe he can understand where Derek’s coming from, but… “I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t be honest with me,” he says stiffly. “Maybe if you’d told me what you needed instead of running away without an explanation I could have been okay with you taking the time you needed. But I didn’t know. I thought you’d left me, that I didn’t make you happy, and now I’m stuck here.”

“What does one have to do with the other?” Derek bursts out in frustration. “You keep saying stuff like that, but I don’t understand what you mean.”

Stiles wipes a hand over his face, sighing. “It doesn’t matter, Derek. It’s ancient history.”

_ “What are you doing, Stiles?” _

_ “If he's not coming back on his own, I'll make him.” _

_ “A, how can you do that? B, why do you want to? If he doesn't want to be here, why do you want to force him back?” _

_ “You don't understand, Scott. He's  _ supposed _ to be here. This is his town even more than it is ours, and it's his to protect. Maybe he doesn't need us, but we need him.” _

_ “You mean  _ you  _ need him.” _

_ “Yeah. Yeah, I do. But so do you, and Lydia, and Malia and Liam and Mason and everyone else. This town needs someone who's bound to it, who won't ever leave, who will stay and take care of it. Derek is the last Hale, besides Cora, and we all know she has less than no interest in being a protector. That was always Derek’s path.” _

_ “Are you sure you're not doing this because you're angry at him for leaving you?” _

_ “Of course not, Scotty. There was nothing for him to leave, was there?” _

_ They'd never figured out what went wrong. Deaton had walked Stiles through the incantation until he had every word, every inflection and nuance memorized, and they had everything they needed. Stiles waited for the next full moon-it was always the damn full moon-and sat outside the old Hale house, unmindful of the storm swirling around him, and chanted.  _

_ Days had passed, and there was still no word from Derek. He'd chalked it up to another failure, depressed and anxious because the spell was his last resort, and gave in to the urge to just drive away from it all.  _

_ Well, he'd tried.  _

_ He'd started throwing up when he was less than twenty feet past the Beacon Hills city line. It came on suddenly and vanished just as quickly, once Stiles was back inside city limits.  _

_ Deaton didn’t understand why the spell had anchored Stiles himself to the town, had appointed him as protector in Derek's place, but it had. Two months away from high school graduation, and Stiles’ future suddenly shrank down to encompass Beacon Hills alone.  _

_ He'd gotten drunk a  _ lot  _ that summer.  _

  
**When you're overwhelmed and you've lost your breath** ****  
**When the space between the things you know is blurry nonetheless.** ****  
**When you try to speak but you make no sound** **  
** **And the words you want are out of reach but they've never been so loud**

Derek manages to get it out of him eventually. Stiles never really had a hope that he’d be able to keep it a secret, not indefinitely, but the look on Derek’s face when he confesses… It’s utter devastation. There’s none of the “that’s what you get for trying to magically force Derek to come back to someplace he clearly doesn’t want to be” admonishing like he got from Lydia. None of the, “Well, you always planned on coming back to Beacon Hills after college anyway,” pragmatism he got from Scott. 

Nope. Derek has clearly taken full responsibility for Stiles’ predicament, feels the full weight of the guilt for running away and driving Stiles to such extreme measures. For the first time, Stiles feels like Derek actually regrets leaving, and he can’t stand how guilty he feels for prompting it. 

“It’s okay,” he says awkwardly, trying to ease the anguish on Derek’s face. “Scott’s right, I only ever thought I’d leave for college, and then I’d come back and join the sheriff’s department. This just means my degree is going to come from BH Community College instead of Berkeley or Davis or wherever.”

“You should have had a choice,” Derek whispers regretfully, and Stiles gets it. Derek has had so few choices in his life, and leaving whenever he wanted-needed, really-is the only significant thing he’s ever had autonomy regarding. It makes Stiles feel worse when he realizes how important that ability to leave must have been to Derek, and here he is shitting on it pretty much constantly. 

Of all people, he should understand that not being able to leave someplace when you feel that driving need, is enough to drive you crazy.

He sees Derek a lot less after that, and it’s startling how much he hates it. When Derek came home he was so angry, he didn’t want to have to see his gorgeous face every day. Now that he has what he wanted, he feels empty and lonely in a way that he didn’t even after Derek left.  When he wakes up in the morning and Derek is already gone, and he goes to sleep at three am without having seen him once all day, it makes him wonder if Derek has found someplace else to live.

Of course, he wouldn’t put it past him to be spying on the loft and sneaking in whenever Stiles leaves for class. It’s the only time he ever does anymore, unless something supernatural pokes its head out. Surprisingly, that doesn’t happen much these days, and hasn’t for awhile. Stiles has never been sure if it’s because BH has an official protector now, or if it’s because most of the supernatural creatures (namely, his friends) have moved on to bigger and better things.

One day he decides to double-back after leaving, getting far enough away that Derek will think he’s actually heading to class. He stops at the library and parks the Jeep in the lot, then heads back on foot. By the time he’s back at the loft his heart is pounding, though that might be because he’s about to confront the asshole who broke his heart and yet, strangely enough, he wants to give another crack at it.

“Avoiding me again, huh?” he asks, cocking a hip while leaning his shoulder into the frame of the loft’s front door. Derek doesn’t look up; clearly Stiles hadn’t snuck up on him, but he doesn’t seem inclined to acknowledge him anyway. “I thought three years would have been long enough to get that out of your system.”

“I wasn’t avoiding you,” Derek protests under his breath, and Stiles snorts, unconvinced.

“Then, or now?”

“Then.”

“So you  _ are _ avoiding me now,” Stiles points out, and Derek gives him this exhausted, defeated look that honestly, kind of breaks his heart a little. “Are you going to tell me why? As far as I know, I haven’t done anything to piss you off. More than usual, anyway.”

A ghost of a smile flickers over his face. “You don’t piss me off. Not anymore.”

“Then why?” His voice is wounded, beseeching, and he kind of hates it, but he also kind of hopes it guilts Derek into explaining himself. He’s under no illusions that he’s a good person.

Derek finally looks up then, his fists tightening and his jaw clenching. “Because every time I look at you it reminds me of what my leaving cost you,” he bites out, and Stiles’ face falls. “I ruined your future.”

"No, Derek.” He steps forward, placing a hand on his arm, and Derek looks away. “ _ I _ ruined my future. Everything that happened is on me. Or maybe on some capricious natural deity who decided to misinterpret the spell. Whatever. I had no place trying to drag you back here, and it bit me on the ass when I tried to force it.”

“Why would you have wanted me back, anyway?” he mutters. “I was no good to anyone.”

“Wrong,” Stiles answers simply. “You were good to me. And I loved you.”

_ “Why are you so hellbent on bringing him back?” Scott argued, and Stiles whirled on him in frustration. _

_ “Why wouldn’t I be? I can’t be this fucking town’s protector all on my own! I need help, and you and everyone else are taking off.” The bitterness seeped into his voice, and he was tired enough that he didn’t care. _

_ Scott did. “Stiles, we’re not abandoning you.” _

_ “No, you’re not,” he agreed easily. “You’ve all got futures ahead of you that don’t take place in Beacon Hills. You have lives to look forward to, and families and careers, and you can’t worry about that one kid who never got out of your hometown.” _

_ “Stiles,” Scott protested, and Stiles took a vindictive kind of satisfaction in the hurt that crossed his face when Stiles stepped back from him. “Is that the only reason you want Derek back? You want someone who’ll stay here with you?” _

_ “Of course not,” Stiles snapped, running his hand through his hair in agitation, pulling at it until it tufted up wildly. “I fucking love him, okay? I think I kind of always have.” _

_ It wasn’t a surprise to Scott, not really, but it was the first time Stiles had ever put it into words. It stunned him a little, how it felt like taking an alpha-packed punch to his solar plexus to admit it. “He loved you too, you know.” _

_ "He had a funny way of showing it,” Stiles muttered harshly. “I wanted to be his anchor, you know? I wanted to be the person who stood by his side and soothed him and wrapped my arms around him when the world was kicking him, time after goddamned time. I wanted to let him know I’d be his strength. And yeah, it’s all emotional and gooey and sappy, but Christ, Scott, he  _ needed _ that. He needed someone to tell him he was worth standing by, worth defending and protecting, instead of being the one protecting everyone else all the time and getting his ass handed to him in the process. I wanted to be all of that for him, and he just. He ran away. He couldn’t even wait another year for me to turn eighteen. He could have left with me, when I went to college. He could have shaken the dust of this wretched town off his heels at the same time I did, if he’d just waited one more damn year. But that was too much to ask of him. If I’d been enough, this past year would have disappeared in a flash. But I wasn’t. It didn’t.” _

_ He stopped finally, the rambling monologue leaving him breathless, his chest heaving and aching and a sour, acidic bile rising in his throat. Scott stared at him with pity, and Stiles couldn’t stand it. He forced his lips into a half-hearted attempt at a smile that came out as more of a grimace. “I’ll be fine, Scott, I promise. I have Deaton and my dad and my magic, right? And I’ll see you on holiday breaks and summer vacations.” _

_ “Yeah!” Scott confirmed, nodding enthusiastically and with evident relief that Stiles was giving him an out. “We’ll definitely see each other on vacations!” _

_ Yeah. They didn’t. _

  
**I will stay** **  
** **Nobody will break you**

Derek is back in the loft again, and Stiles readily admits to himself how relieved he is that he hasn’t driven the wolf away again. He still disappears sometimes, but Stiles doesn’t get anxious about it anymore because he always comes back. 

They have a routine now. Neither says a word as Derek sinks onto the couch and Stiles ambles over and collapses beside him; Derek fires up the DVD player and Stiles snuggles in, shifting a little at a time until he’s leaning against Derek’s shoulder. They watch the movie, not talking, and Derek eventually lifts his arm and wraps it around Stiles’ shoulders, and the hard knot in his chest unfurls and he’s finally able to breathe again.

Stiles’ admission that he’d loved Derek changes things. It’s not the same as saying he’s still in love with him, but it’s close enough, and they both know it. Derek doesn’t press it; guilt still keeps him at a distance, and Stiles isn’t sure he’s ready to go there again anyway, and it’s nice, what they have now. He thinks they’re working towards something, but he’s not in a hurry to get there.

Then one night Derek shows up at the loft and he’s fucking  _ beaming _ , and Stiles is pretty sure they’ve been transported to an alternate dimension. “I’m sorry, have you seen my roommate, Derek? You look like him, but you’re clearly not. I’m pretty sure if he ever smiled, his whole face would shatter.”

Derek shoots him a look of exasperation, and, oh. There he is. “I have something to show you,” he says, eyes mysterious, and Stiles groans. “Come on.”

In the car on the way to… well, wherever, Derek hands him a blindfold and instructs him to put it on. “I didn’t think we were at the stage of kinky sex games, but sure, I’m willing to skip a couple steps,” Stiles concedes, and Derek smirks as Stiles settles the blindfold over his eyes and tightens it in the back. “Do I at least get a hint of where we’re going?”

“Nope,” Derek half-sings, and Stiles stares at him, incredulous. The effect is thwarted by the blindfold, but it’s a good effort.

He doesn’t know what’s going on when they stop, and Derek gets out of the car, coming around to Stiles’ side and gently guiding him out. It’s eerily silent, as if the whole world is collectively holding its breath, and Derek’s hand is between his shoulder blades, pressing him forward, one step after the next.

It only takes a minute or two before he hears a thud, and Derek panting. “Derek? What the fuck, dude?” He doesn’t get an answer, and he’s starting to panic a little. “Der? Let me take the blindfold off. Please?”

When he still gets no response, he yanks the blindfold off and his heart slams in his chest when he sees Derek curled up on the ground in the fetal position, nearly green and face contorted in agony. “Derek!” he yells, dropping to his knees beside his prone body, hands hovering helplessly, wanting desperately to shake him and snap him out of it, and simultaneously terrified of doing something to make it worse.

“Look up,” Derek rasps, and Stiles stares at him in dismayed confusion, but he follows the direction. He looks up.

And then he collapses against Derek’s shuddering body.

“Welcome to Beacon Hills” declares the brightly-painted wooden sign, which is a good fifty feet behind him.

“Derek?” His voice is tremulous, questioning, and a pained smile twists Derek’s mouth. “Oh my God. You…” He can’t quite get the words out, but Derek nods anyway. Stiles stares at him, stunned, until realization sets in and he shakes his head sharply. “Get your dumb ass up.”

With Stiles’ help, Derek manages to pull himself to his feet and they hobble their way back to the city limits line. As soon as Derek’s over the boundary, he takes in a deep, quaking breath, and his color fades to his normal pale hue.

“What the fuck did you do, Derek?” he asks quietly, and Derek stares at him intensely.

“I researched with Deaton. We still don’t know how or why your spell went wrong, but we figured out how to fix it.”

“So you’re…”

Derek peers into Stiles’ eyes, his own pale green gaze piercing. “I’m not going anywhere, Stiles. But now  _ you _ can.”

There are tears streaming down his face; tears of wonder, tears of disbelief, tears of joy. No one has ever done something like this for him. Everyone else left him. Everyone else gave him an awkward hug and a sympathetic look and drove off to places unknown (okay, Southern California and the Eastern seaboard, mostly). Nobody else even thought about staying behind for him.

Now Derek  _ can’t _ leave. He gave up his freedom for Stiles to gain his.

It almost feels like a slap in Derek’s face when he throws his arms around his neck and whispers, “Why in the world would I ever leave? I have everything I could ever want right here.” He’s pretty sure Derek will be okay with it anyway.

Going by the devastating smile he drops on Stiles like an atom bomb, he totally is.

  
**Trust in me, trust in me** ****  
**Don't pull away** ****  
**Just trust in me, trust in me** **  
** **Cause I'm just trying to keep this together, because I could do worse and you could do better**

_ “What are you up to?” Derek asks, peering over his shoulder, and Stiles glances up. Derek’s face is hovering right over him and he takes the opportunity to press a kiss to his boyfriend’s stubbled jaw. _

_ “Just getting ready to post my final paper of my undergraduate career. Want to watch?” _

_ “I’m sure it will be thrilling,” Derek says dryly, but he settles into the chair beside Stiles and watches with a slight smile as he goes through the familiar process of uploading the paper to the classroom dropbox. When he finally clicks the submit button, Stiles exhales a huge sigh of relief and sinks back into his chair. _

_ “I’m done with college,” he marvels, and Derek studies him. _

_ “Any urge to head off to the big city to explore your future?” he asks mildly, and Stiles glares at him in frustration. _

_ “I’ve told you a thousand times, I’m not going anywhere,” he grumbles. “Why does it feel like you’re trying to drive me away?” _

_ Derek’s fingers find their way to his neck and rub absent-mindedly, soaking up some of the tension until Stiles feels like he’s dripping all over like melted butter. “I would never want to drive you away,” he answers. “But I also never want you to feel like you have to stay for me. I won’t be the reason you’re trapped in this town, not again.” _

_ “I’m not trapped,” Stiles says quietly, leaning to the side and curling up against Derek’s chest. The chair tips slightly and Derek simply tugs on the leg, pulling it closer so that Stiles can press tighter into his side. “You gave me the opportunity to go wherever I wanted, to explore every corner of this earth if I so chose. But the second I had that freedom, I realized I didn't need it. Beacon Hills is my home. Wherever you are, is my home. We lost each other for three years, and I’m not losing you ever again.” _

_ Derek brushes his lips against the top of Stiles’ head, and Stiles feels his heart leap into his throat at the simple gesture. These little moments are the things that he still has a hard time believing are real, that are happening to him, even a year after Derek released him from the spell. He learned long ago that he doesn’t get that life. He doesn’t get happiness and someone who loves him. _

_ Except, apparently, he does. _

_ “I will want you until the end of time,” Derek murmurs. “If you choose to leave, I’ll still want you. If you stay, I’ll prove to you over and over again, every day, just exactly how much.” _

_ “You already have,” Stiles shoots back easily, smiling into Derek’s chest. “It wasn’t even a choice to stay. It was an inevitability. You and I are endgame.” _

_ “Endgame?” _

_ Stiles groans. “Jesus. I still have so much to teach you.” _

_ Derek ruffles his hair, hugs him in tighter. “I can’t wait.” _


End file.
